Time For A Change
by SisterOfTheHunt
Summary: Vernon had always made his feelings for his nephew very clear, but after the confrontation with the Order at the station, he decided to show another kind of affection. And when Death Eaters come into the picture, Harry finally decides to lead his own life. GreyHarry and FamilyWeasleys. Full sammary inside. Rated T for abuse and other forms of violence.


**CHAPTER I**

**SAMMARY; THE SUMMER AFTER HE LOST SIRIUS WAS BY FAR THE WORST TIME OF HIS LIFE. HIS UNCLE HAD MADE IT HIS JOB TO MAKE HIM MISERABLE AFTER HIS CONFRONTATION WITH THE ORDER. SO THERE HE WAS, LYING ON HIS BED, BEATEN AND DEPRESSED, WISHING HE WERE ANYWHERE BUT THERE. OF COURSE, LUCK WAS NEVER ON HIS SIDE. AS THE WORLD TURNED INTO OBLIVIAN, A SERIES OF **_**POP'S**_** WERE HEARD FROM OUTSIDE HIS WINDOW AND THEN APPEARED THE PEOPLE IN BLACK CLOAKS…**

_**This will be AU from Half-Blood Prince onwards. If you're a fanatic like me, then you'll know that no one can take credit from the genius that is JK. Rowling. **_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**SIRIUS BLACK REPORTED DEAD; KILLED BY COUSIN BELLATRIX LESTRANGE**_

– _Full story pages 5 - 7_

_**MINISTER FOR MAGIC ADMITS YOU-KNOW-WHO'S RETURN**_

– _Exclusive Interview pages 8 – 10_

_**DUMBLEDORE ELECTED FOR NEXT MINISTER FOR MAGIC (?)**_

– _Pages 11 – 13 for more._

_**THE BOY-WHO-LIVED; OUR CHOSEN ONE (?)**_

– _Pages 14 – 15 for more._

The headlines were seen everywhere, sending the whole wizarding world into a small bout of chaos. They still didn't want to believe it, who would? But it was there and even their minister admits it. All they could hope for now is for their savior to save them once more.

Harry looked at the headlines in disgust. He thought the headline about Dumbledore was long overdue and although he was quite happy about that, the other headlines only managed to upset him more than he already was.

He missed Sirius terribly, the guilt still hitting him so hard, he wonders how he breathes. There were times when he thinks that he wouldn't have strength to wake up. Every morning starts the same, he would wake up to the first signs of sunlight and for a moment, he would forget. Suddenly it comes back to him with such a force, it leaves him breathless. He would stare blankly at the ceiling, eyes empty yet filled with such emotion, it was pitiful.

Then he would struggle to his feet, feeling like the inside of his limbs were filled with lead. He swayed, head pounding. He realizes now that he had not eaten much in three days. Grabbing onto the wall for support, he made his way to the bathroom to wash up. There, he sees his reflection for the first time in a few days. He was thinner, losing the remaining weight that he couldn't afford to lose in the first place. His cheeks were hallowed and his face supporting an unhealthy grey pallor, his eyes were dull and glassy with dark shadows under them. He looked awful.

He took off his shirt, his ribs prominently sticking out from his thin skin. The only upside to this was that he was now at a more respected height of six feet, but that didn't matter; with his sickly thin stature, he looked like a walking lamp post.

Not wasting any more time, he quickly took a shower, wincing as the scalding water hit his bruises. Yes, there were bruises. On his arms, his stomach, his ribs, his back, his shoulders… they littered his body. Oh, and let's not forget the hand-shaped bruises on his neck. He laughed bitterly as he showered his face with the scalding water.

After the confrontation with his uncle and the Order, his uncle had come home in a flaming rage. Before he could even settle into his room, his uncle had tackled him and beat every part of his body that he could reach. Harry had fought back, but everything went downhill when Dudley decided to join in their little 'game'. Uncle Vernon had then pushed him against the wall and wrapped his beefy arms around his thin neck while Dudley proceeded to kick every part of his upper body. It was agony, he couldn't breathe and he couldn't get free.

Then they just left him on his bedroom floor, heaving and gasping, satisfied with what they've done. It took Harry most if the night to just sit up and crawl to bed. He was so confused, what the hell had just happened? That was his last thought before darkness claimed him.

That happened five days ago and the bruises took their sweet time to heal, still looking as fresh as they did when they first appeared. Luckily or unluckily, Uncle Vernon and Dudley had left him alone after that day, but that didn't ease him in any way. Mad-Eye Moody's words kept echoing in his head, _Constant Vigilance!_ He had seen the looks that they kept giving him behind his back, even if they pretended they didn't. They weren't exactly masters of discretion. Harry didn't think they were even trying.

Moving around was painful, the bruises aggravating his every move but he felt like he had to; he didn't want to chance another beating from Vernon or Dudley. He didn't think his body could take it. Making his way downstairs, he was relieved that there was no one else in the kitchen; he preferred working alone without Aunt Petunia breathing down his neck. There was little that could keep him happy during his time at Privet Drive; one of them though was cooking.

He had been ordered from an early age to cook them meals. Sure, he had to endure some severe burns but he had come to enjoy it. Now, he wasn't usually one to brag, but his cooking wasn't half bad. Of course he couldn't show that to the Dursley's, they won't allow him to be happy. Harry tried keeping his skills in the kitchen in a moderate level; as in only enough for his relatives to be satisfied with the food he gives.

He started with the eggs and bacon, and then proceeded with the toast and rashers. He decided it couldn't hurt to include something sweet for breakfast so he quickly made the batter for the breakfast muffins. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of fresh breakfast. Harry then heard his relatives arousing from their sleep, probably from smelling the food. He could practically hear his cousin's stomach rumbling.

Harry quickly saved a portion of the breakfast for himself, and hid it in the oven for later. He knew that they wouldn't let him eat as much as he wanted. He set the plates and put the well prepared meal on the table. Just in time too because a second later Dudley came waddling into the dining room and immediately shoved five pieces if bacon into his mouth. It was a good thing that he made plenty for the three of them to eat.

Harry busied himself with washing the dishes as his aunt and uncle appeared. It gave him a reason to not look at his uncle, who he knew was glowering at him. He ignored it and fortunately Vernon tucked into the food quickly. Like Dudley, he shoved very large helpings of bacon and toast, barely fitting his mouth. Harry turned around, disgusted; they really made quite convincing pigs. He repressed gagging, completely losing his appetite.

Once he finished with the dishes, he quietly took a seat at the corner of the kitchen, wincing as his back made contact with the wall. Vernon then caught his eye and he narrowed his eyes in anger. The stupid whale of a man was actually smirking at him!

"There'll be more where that came from, boy," said Vernon. There was a glint in his eyes that Harry couldn't understand. Then he stood up, pecked Aunt Petunia on the cheek and left for work.

Harry sat there stunned, his face losing the meager colour it had gained from his shower earlier. What the hell did that mean? Whatever it meant, he was determined to not be shaken up about it; Vernon had always been one for empty threats. Still, he couldn't stop his hands from shaking, not after what had happened five days ago. His bruises were aching in anticipation, like a warning. He had a bad feeling about this.

He should have known that a free day was never possible for him in Privet Drive. After Vernon left for work, Harry was looking forward to having a day to himself quietly in his room, maybe complete some of his summer homework or just rest his aching body. But of course the Dursley's thought that was preposterous. _Why_ would he get to have some time alone for himself? He was just a _good-for-nothing freak_, only good enough to be their servant – in their eyes.

Harry had been making his way upstairs after he finished his breakfast – well, a quarter of it; he couldn't stomach anymore than that – when Aunt Petunia shoved a piece of paper on his face.

"What now?" he asked grumpily.

"Your chores for today," she sneered, "Finish them before dinner, or you won't get any," And with that, she walked out of the house, probably to meet with her friends for some tea.

Harry scowled at the piece of paper; only Aunt Petunia would be able to fit a whole summers' worth of chores into a day for him to complete.

_Weed and water the garden._

_Re-paint the fence._

_Mow the lawn._

_Polish the windows._

_Wax the house floors._

_Do the laundry._

_Clean and organise the garage._

_Vacuum the carpets._

_Sweep the chimney._

He groaned, knowing that she did this on purpose. They knew that he was nowhere near recovered from the beating his uncle and cousin had given him. He huffed; he should have known. Harry would actually be surprised if they didn't do this.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and started to work.

By the time he finished, it was only an hour before dinner time. He staggered into the house, taking off his dirty shoes and rolling up his muddy pants before he walked in. He was exhausted, his body aching even more than it was in the morning, his head pounding and his throat was parched.

Aunt Petunia had come back before lunchtime and had told him he couldn't have any lunch until he finished with everything. Not giving her the satisfaction, he bore with it and finished everything until he felt like he would pass out.

Walking upstairs, he washed up quickly to get rid of the grime and dirt that clung onto his skin. The hot water felt heavenly for his sore muscles and was soon refreshed. He walked out of the shower regrettably, wishing he could spend more time enjoying the water.

Dressing up quickly, he laid on his bed, moaning in relief as his tired body sagged into his covers. He had at least another forty-five minutes to nap before dinner – Aunt Petunia was cooking tonight – was ready. He set his alarm clock to wake him up on time and with that, he fell asleep.

Dinner went by without problems. Harry was surprised that Aunt Petunia gave him a fair-sized portion to eat. It wasn't as big as the ones that Vernon or Dudley got, but he was thankful anyways. He ate as much as he could, but even with the hunger he had felt earlier, he only managed to finish a quarter of his meal. Dudley, seeing that Harry was just playing with his food at that point, snatched his plate away from under him and devoured it within seconds.

Harry had been looking down at the time; otherwise, he would have noticed Petunia frowning at him with a look that had never been present before when directed at him; concern. But a split second later, it was gone, replaced with a look of indifference.

She was not concerned for him! She wasn't! But then she looked at her nephew again, taking in his slumped posture and pale face. He held himself stiffly, like his body was sore. Of course, she knew that he was; she had heard with her own ears what her son and husband did to him. At first, she didn't care. Why would she? He was a waste of space… but after her son and husband were done, she had taken a peek into her nephew's room and her stomach lurched.

There he was on the floor, curled up into a fetal position, breaths heavy and wheezy. He didn't seem to realize that she was there, peeking through the gap of his door. She had just stood there and watched as he struggled to sit up, as he crawled to his bed and finally reaching it just in time before he passed out. Looking at his sleeping face, she had felt something inside her bubble and well up.

_Guilt._

She had felt guilty and yet she didn't understand why. She looked at him again, feeling something else rise inside her. A sense of familiarity, but again couldn't understand why. Then the boy shifted in his sleep, raising his hand and brushing it against his nose, like he was trying to scratch it. Suddenly Petunia covered her mouth to hold back a gasp.

_Lily…_

How many times had she seen Lily do that in her sleep when they were little? Lily had always been one to turn in early while Petunia would spend her time in bed, thinking before she went to sleep. She would turn to the side of the room to where Lily was sleeping, just simply observing her face. She really was lovely, Petunia had thought with envy. Her hair was a dark auburn colour but would turn a flaming red when in the sunlight. Her skin was a milky white and flawless, except for the small sprinkle of freckles. Her lips were a natural rosy pink that Petunia had always wished she had. Her lashes dark, long and curled.

Yes, she envied her sister, at some days with a passion. But then she would see her sleeping, brushing her nose with her hand like she always does and she would think it was one of the most endearing traits that her sister could have. And she would love her all over again.

Back to the present, she watched with a new fascination as the sleeping Harry brushed at his nose. She had always said that he looked like his father, but now, observing his sleeping face, he looked like Lily. The same eyes and lashes; dark, long and curled, same skin colour, same coloured lips. A wave of envy tore through her again; he was so beautiful, _like her_, and it wasn't fair.

Ever since that night, she had ignored him like a plague.

But after that night, she couldn't stop comparing Harry with her own son.

Like how he had grown taller than Dudley, even if he was sickly thin. His face, that had always been thin, was now angular, more defined, losing its boyish look, while Dudley was still as big as ever, if not bigger. She had always thought her nephew's hair was impossible to manage, as all it had managed to do to her when he was little was to annoy her. but now comparing his hair to Dudley, she realized that Harry had wonderfully thick, soft hair and her son had thin, blonde hair that always lay flat in his head, like hers.

For a few days, she kept up her silent musings. Comparing their eyes, their hair, traits, mannerisms, the way they speak, the way they walk, the way they eat, their voice differences…

She couldn't stop.

And she hated admitting it, but she could see now that her nephew won by a landslide when it came to attractiveness. And mannerisms. And etiquette. And the efficiency of his completed work. And so many things that she could list out on a blank page, it drove her mad.

After the fifth day, during dinner, she couldn't help a split second of concern show on her face. The boy didn't eat as much as he should have and looked worse than before. He was thinner and she noticed the hand print shaped bruises on his neck and couldn't suppress a wince. Luckily, no one saw anything.

She sat quietly in her seat as her husband ordered the boy to clean the kitchen, noticing the glint in his eyes that she knew all too well. It was the look he got every time he got when he was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. She shook her head, Vernon wouldn't do anything foolish. He was smart. Whatever he was planning, it couldn't be _too _bad.

But still the dread filled her heart.

_**Yes, I decided to make Petunia review her mistakes. Probably make her see the error of her ways in the end.**_

_**Speaking of reviews, please, please give me feedback. I love reading what others think.**_

_**And I know that not a lot happened in this chapter, but I wanted to get everything out of the way so there won't be any confusions. If you are still confused, feel free to ask. Maybe I didn't write enough. **_

_**Also, English is not my native language. I speak Malay, and although I speak the language pretty well, I know there are bound to be some mistakes. Everyone makes them. If you find any, please do tell me. I'm constantly looking for improvement.**_

_**Thanks!**_


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